


eros ≠ storge

by idyllSunset



Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Family Dynamics, Gen, Hanahaki Disease, Hurt/Comfort, MCC - Freeform, MCC 4, Past Relationship(s), Sibling Bonding
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-30
Updated: 2020-11-10
Packaged: 2021-03-08 17:41:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 12,313
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27200579
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/idyllSunset/pseuds/idyllSunset
Summary: Hanahaki Disease is a life-threatening respiratory disease caused by unrequited romantic affection. The main symptom is the physical manifestation of love as flowers that sprout in the throat, trachea, and eventually lungs, filling the airway. Unless cured, the disease begins to obstruct bronchi within the lungs, growing until the patient asphyxiates. There are only two cures: have the affection become requited, or literally amputate the love itself.This is all old news for Technoblade, who memorized these facts years ago when he was diagnosed.This isn’tnecessarilynews to Tommy either, but learning that Technoblade had Hanahaki is sort of shocking when he’s meant to play a light-hearted tournament with the whole family in an hour.
Relationships: Dave | Technoblade & Phil Watson, Dave | Technoblade & TommyInnit, Dave | Technoblade & Wilbur Soot, Dave | Technoblade & Wilbur Soot & TommyInnit & Phil Watson, Dave | Technoblade/Ambiguous
Comments: 71
Kudos: 1364





	1. διαμάχη

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A couple of worldbuilding things just for clarification:  
> -Respawns are always a thing unless permadeath is specifically enabled  
> -Some health conditions persist even after respawns  
> -Otherwise, respawning heals any damage that attributed to the death  
> -Dying in hardcore means you get locked out of a world forever  
> -Server admins basically have all creative mode powers  
> -Public servers act more like large cities than simple minigame hubs  
> -Livestreams can be watched from any world/server

Techno gives himself a brief moment to loathe the limitations of modern teleportation.

On servers like this, at MCC, a modern and professional tournament server, teleportation is an absolute _joke._ It’s so easy that the administrators can literally teleport dozens of people hundreds and hundreds of times per day, with virtually no error or lag.

And yet, everyone still has to physically put on their tournament equipment.

_Cringe._

Techno grunts as the red sash around his waist snags, the knot on the back of it not quite coming loose. He tugs at it and reaches his elbows further behind his back to properly untie it. Finally, the damn thing comes loose, and he lays it across his cape, which is draped over a bench next to his mask and crown. He’ll need to take off his pants and shirt too, in order to get this monitor harness on. It’s just a piece of gear for the admins to keep track of his vitals and position, but also for the spectating audience to be able to watch the perspective of their favorite competitor. Harnesses like these are standard for legit tournament servers, so Techno has worn his fair share. They’re not excessively uncomfortable; on the contrary, they're actually made of elastic and paper-thin and designed to feel like nothing. That doesn’t mean that it’s _fun_ to strip to his undies and squirm into extra shit when teleportation technology should be advanced enough to just put it on _for_ him.

At least they’ve got some privacy with changing rooms for each team.

And Techno’s in his own changing room, with his own team, which also happens to be his family.

“And it’s like, _‘Christ, man, would you- would you just let me be? I’m just— just tryna get some gear for my main man over here!’_ But then, of course, the dickwad _strolls up_ and has the _gall_ to call me a trespasser! Like, dude, seriously? So I— you know what I told ‘im? Do you— Wilbur, do you know what I told ‘im?” Tommy exclaims behind him.

“What did you tell him?” Wilbur asks with no small amount of exasperation.

“Nothin’! I punched him in the face and went on with my day.”

“Great story,” Wilbur says.

“It—” Tommy pauses for a brief second, but even half a second of silence is practically ages when it comes to Tommy. “It **_was_** a great story, _actually._ I don’t think you were listenin’.”

“I _was_ listening, Tommy. You ran across a guy’s property and punched him when he told you off. I heard.”

“Well it wasn’t my fault he was bein’ lame,” Tommy prattles on.

Techno tunes all of this out as he undoes the buttons of his trousers. They’re high-waisted, so he has to undo about eight buttons before the tightly-cinched waistband slips over his hipbones. He steps out and tosses the trousers on the bench.

“Cause, like, it wasn’t anything! I was passin’ through. I wouldn’t have even known he was home if he hadn’t come out to shout and shout and shout,” Tommy says.

“It probably just looked like you were scoping out his base,” Phil chimes in with more patience in his voice than Wilbur could hope to achieve.

“Yeah, maybe but! But you see, I wasn’t, actually. I can’t be guilty when I’m actually innocent, right? And I was innocent. I swear, people get so touchy!”

Techno goes for his shirt, grabbing the collar and tugging it over his head. He makes sure the sleeves come off without going inside-out and then reaches for the purple harness so that he can begin to figure out how to put it on.

“I mean, he pro’lly only challenged me ‘cause of my looks! Bet it wouldn’t have happened if I was beefier. Or if I didn’t have braces. If— if I looked like you, he’d’a minded his own business, I bet,” Tommy says. “Like look! I’ll prove my point. Wil, Phil, imagine with me, alright? _Imagine._ Go on, think about it. You’re at home, and you look out the window, and you see—”

A cold hand touches Techno’s shoulder, so he reflexively jerks it backward and grabs it with his opposite hand to keep it from moving, and looks down to see that he’s grabbed his little brother. With a sigh, he lets the wrist go with a little shove. “Watch it,” Techno says for good measure.

But Tommy, curiously, doesn’t even meet his eye or complain about being grabbed or do any of his typical little-shit little brother signature moves. He’s got an expression on his face like he just saw a ghost, and he’s staring straight at Techno’s chest.

 _“What?”_ Techno asks, exasperated. When he gets no response, he reaches out a hand and pokes Tommy’s shoulder. “Kid. What.”

“You—” Tommy cuts himself off. “You— y- the fuck _happened_ to you?”

Techno raises an eyebrow. “Pardon?”

“You’ve got…” Tommy lifts a hand, and Techno’s ready to swat it away when his brain hones in on a small detail: Tommy’s hand is trembling like a leaf. So Techno holds still and watches Tommy’s fingers get closer until they hit his chest, pressing lightly against the smooth scar tissu—

_Oh._

“What happened?” Tommy asks, tracing his fingers slowly and lightly up the center of his chest, following the dip of the long, solitary, vertical white scar that lays there.

Techno feels the gut-wrenching sensation that he can only boil down to the words _‘oh no’,_ so he turns to his brother and father with a tight face and wide eyes and finds them both staring at Tommy, hesitant and waiting.

“T- Techno?” Tommy asks just as his fingers trail down his sternum, lower, closer and closer to his diaphragm, to the end of the scar, and finally, Techno has the sense to step backward.

“Just leave it be,” Techno says. “It’s nothing important.”

“Nothing im— _nothing important?”_ Tommy shouts, finally meeting Techno’s eyes. His expression flips like a switch, straight from scared-little-kid to screaming-ball-of-fury. “Tech! What the bloody hell happened to you? How? _How_ does that happen? I’m not a f- a fucking _idiot,_ I know that you only get scars when shit heals naturally! Wounds don’t fucking stick around after you respawn! So how the fuck did someone rip open your chest _non-fatally?_ And when? When did someone gut you like a fish? Did— did someone _torture_ you?”

“What? No,” Techno insists. “Jesus, back off, Tommy. You’re blowing this out of proportion.”

“Uh nonono, I’m like, _super not!_ Anybody would. Phil, are you hearing th—” Tommy finally turns back to the other family members and catches their expressions. “You’re hearing th… you _knew?”_

“It happened years ago,” Techno says before either of them can get a word in and turn this into a pity party. “It’s old news.”

“And nobody thought to tell me?” Tommy asks. “I’ve been your brother for years too if you didn’t know!”

“Christ, shut _up,”_ Techno groans.

 _“No!_ Nonono, I’m not gonna _shut up_ and let this go, what the _fuck?_ Phil, Wilbur, what the fuck?” Tommy asks. “Everyone knew that someone fucked Techno up and we all decided that Tommy’s too much of a _baby_ to get let in on the secret?”

“You were ten,” Wilbur says.

“I—” Tommy lifts a finger and points it and words catch in his throat. After a pause, he nods his head stiffly. “Fine. That’s a little young to be told all about torture. But it’s been six years since then and still nobody thought to tell me the epic story of how Techno managed to live through—?”

“It wasn’t torture. It was surgery,” Techno interrupts.

Tommy shuts up. His eyes dart back to Techno, wide and full of questions, but his mouth shuts and he waits.

“You were ten, and I was really sick, so Phil took me to a server where they’ve got medical professionals and they had to do an operation so I wouldn’t die,” Techno says.

“An operation?” Tommy echoes, eyes flickering down to the long, eighteen-inch scar that lines Techno’s sternum.

“Yeah. Surgery. To remove debris from my lungs so that I wouldn’t suffocate.”

“But if you were dying, wouldn’t you respawn—?”

“Special disease. It respawned with me,” Techno says.

Tommy’s eyes widen even more. “You had _lung cancer?!”_

Techno shakes his head. “I had Hanahaki.”

  


* * *

  


MCC 4 starts largely in their favor. Skyblockle comes first, and there’s nobody better at Skyblockle than Technoblade. It's practically just Bedwars with closing borders. They win by a country mile and secure first place right out of the gates.

And Tommy, curiously, flips back and forth between being incessantly aggressive and loud in the games and extremely quiet once break time is called. It’s worrying to Techno, who is observant if not understanding. Phil and Wilbur are a little busy being offended by Tommy’s behavior, but for some reason, Techno seems to be holding all the family’s patience at the moment. Or maybe it’s just because he’s the only one Tommy’s looking weirdly at, now.

“So you had…”

“... Yep.”

_“Had.”_

“Yep.”

“Past t-”

“Yes, Tommy. Past tense ‘had’.”

His little brother looks at him again, as if he can develop x-ray vision and stare through Techno’s shirt if he just tries hard enough. Then, after a moment, he bites his lip. “Who else knows about all of that?”

“I don’t really remember,” Techno says. “Wanna go ask Phil?”

“Why would I ask _Phil?”_

“Because he knows the list of who knows better than I do.”

Tommy furrows his brows. “Why— _why_ doesn’t this matter to you? And why does _Phil_ get to know absolutely everything about this? It’s supposed to be a really big deal. It _is_ a really big deal. Shouldn’t you like— like— remember these crucial bits of information for yourself?”

“It’s not that crucial. I don’t talk about it much, as you might’ve figured out by now,” Techno shrugs. “It was a long time ago.”

“So you just…”

Techno sighs and gives his brother a once over. The little asshole is taking a surprisingly serious approach. Techno had half-expected him to dodge the issue, as is family custom for any uncomfortable topic ever, but Tommy’s being pretty upfront. Pretty open. Which is… suspicious, because Tommy doesn’t let his guard down that often, and Techno had expected Tommy to jump at the opportunity to use the MCC as a distraction. But again, the facts don’t lie. Tommy’s right here, having a serious conversation, even if he’s not really covering much ground or opening up. He’s still sitting down and talking about it. That’s a start. Or maybe it's a red flag.

Tommy blinks and crosses his arms. “You’re— you’re…”

Techno flicks a finger to check the countdown timer and grimaces when he notices how low it is. They’ve got twenty seconds before they’re teleported back to the team to vote on the next minigame.

Like it or not, now isn’t the time.

“I’m exactly the same as I was yesterday,” Techno cuts in, hoping that his words can be a quick fix that can hold Tommy together until this tournament is over, at the very least. “It’s all in the past for me, Tommy. I know it’s a lot to take in, but you just need to remember that this happened years ago. The only thing that changed today was you knowing about it.”

“Okay,” Tommy nods carefully. He shakes his head and his eyes harden and his entire posture shifts, transitioning into his larger-than-life persona where he dons bravado like it’s a disguise that will protect him. “We’re gonna wreck the other teams, right?”

“Hell yeah, we are,” Techno agrees.

  


* * *

  


Another game passes by. Things go worse.

As soon as Big Sales ends, Tommy gets in a fight with Phil that lasts annoyingly long. Techno is just glad that the MCC audience can only listen into their comms channel when they’re in the actual games because this would be a fucking embarrassment. The round itself was a disaster. Tommy sort of refused to do what Phil asked and they ended up losing for it (though not by a huge margin).

“I don’t know how I’m gonna do this,” Wilbur says to Techno as they mill around. “Don’t get me wrong, I love Tommy. But two more hours of this?”

They’ve both turned off their comms, because Tommy is currently screeching about how it’s not his fault that he’s not a geologist, and Phil is countering with the fact that it’s more like a matching game than a geology quiz.

“Did you say something to Tommy about Phil?”

“You’ve been around the whole time. We never muted ourselves,” Techno says. He’s wearing his pig mask, but he knows that Wilbur can hear the way he raised an eyebrow.

“Yeah, that doesn’t quite answer my question,” Wilbur says, annoyed. “We deafened.”

Techno gives him a sideways glance and holds his gaze for a long moment. “You didn’t listen in?”

“No.”

“You could’ve.”

“It’s your story to tell. Phil and I have no right trying to step in the middle of that,” Wilbur says.

Techno thinks it’s more complicated than that. It’s his story only in that he was the one who was in danger, but it’s a family story because he remembers the way it shook them to the core. The way Wilbur was the one who found him the first time he couldn’t cough the flora up without help, and how Wilbur was traumatized for years with thoughts of _‘what if I hadn’t been there’_. The way that Phil was forced to make decisions about which son needed his attention more: the child who needed normalcy and attention or the teenager who was slowly asphyxiating over the course of months. The way both of them went through hell waiting for Techno to make his decision, both of them arguing for and against the surgery and never settling and always so anxiety-ridden while Techno wasted away in front of their eyes. For all of that, Techno thinks they earned the right to call it their story, too. But he can’t give them what they don’t want, and he can't force them to explain everything to Tommy either.

“So. Did something happen?” Wilbur asks.

After a second, Techno slows to a stop and hums. “I wouldn’t worry. Tommy’s just upset no one told him. He’s takin’ it out on the person he thinks had the most responsibility to tell him.”

“Responsibility?”

“I’m sure he thinks that _‘snitches get stitches’_ only applies to brothers, and that Phil is required to be Switzerland at all times no matter what.”

Wilbur frowns but nods slowly, sighing. “We’re supposed to be having fun today.”

“He was. He _is,”_ Techno says with certainty. He’s seen Tommy’s face mid-game. It would take a hell of a lot to actually stop Tommy’s competitive nature, and it seems that this drama isn’t enough to distract him once he’s playing. “It’s just the quiet bits. His head’s in the game the second that timer hits zero.”

“That’s what I’m worried about,” Wil says. “When we’re in the games, we’re teammates. But we’re _family_ out here. If he’s pissed with us when we’re _out here,_ what does that say about how he’s handling it?”

Techno furrows his brow. He hadn’t considered that. “I’ll talk to him.”

Wilbur doesn’t say ‘thank you’ with his words (because he’s a stubborn ungrateful asshole), but the look in his eyes is close enough.

  


* * *

  


They do well in Survival Games, even though Tommy doesn’t say a single word to Phil the whole time. Instead, Tommy watches Techno’s back, makes sure he gets food and armor and refuses to shut up even once he’s dead and spectating (causing Wilbur to tell him to shut up about five times). Honestly, one would think Phil had his communicator muted for the entire round for how little Tommy acknowledges him.

After the round, where everyone except Tommy survived to the last sixty seconds, the discomfort in the group is enough to palpably feel. They should be celebrating a near-win, but instead, Wilbur storms off rubbing his face and Phil walks away without so much as a glance at them. Techno sighs and realizes that he really does have to intervene. He’s not the feelings-y guidance-doling big brother - cause that’s _definitely_ Wilbur’s job - but in this situation, Wilbur and Phil are already at the end of their ropes, so it really does have to be Techno who steps in to get Tommy back on track. Calmly, he puts a hand on Tommy’s shoulder and says, “c’mon. Let’s take a walk.”

He leads Tommy outside the Dome, and they’ve barely gotten off the main road with their competitors when Techno gets impatient and starts the real conversation.

“Mute yourself,” Techno says preemptively, knowing that it’s the polite thing to do.

“Wh—”

“Do it,” Techno says firmly, switching his own comm channel off. Tommy reaches to his own earpiece and does the same, and then all that’s around them is distant conversations and the constant tides.

“Stop fightin’ Phil. It’s dumb and it’s not doin’ any good.”

“We’re not _actually_ fighting,” Tommy scoffs.

“You can cut the bullshit, Tom, I’m not as dumb as whatever friends you’re off makin’ these days,” Techno says.

Tommy actually shrinks at that.

“I know, dude, I know. Gettin’ pissed at your dad is a right of passage. But you should make it for a good reason if only for the ability to deny accusations the inevitable of being an angsty teen.”

“Call me whatever you like. Doesn’t change what he did,” Tommy grumbles.

Techno sighs. “What exactly do you blame him for?”

For a long few moments, Tommy is completely quiet. “I— I guess… for never telling me. It seems like a family thing. Family history. Right? Well if it _is_ a family thing, it sounds like you all forgot that I’m part of the family as well.”

“Pop quiz. True or false: it would be fucked up to reveal someone’s past illness without permission.”

“True,” Tommy says hesitantly. “I guess I get your point.”

“He thought of it as something that should be up to me. But he knew I don’t talk about it much.”

“Do you not like to talk about it?”

“I _don’t_ talk about it. That’s not quite the same thing,” Techno shrugs.

“So, then, why are you not telling me to— to _fuck off,_ or _mind my own business,_ or whatever?”

“Because you’re right, dude,” Techno says simply. “It was kinda fucked up to keep you in the dark when everyone else knew. We may as well get it all out in the open right now.”

Tommy looks over his shoulder, then back at Techno with an uncertain expression, as though this is a test and he's worried he'll fail it. “You’re sure?”

“Hit me with your best shot.”

“Who was it?”

Damn. Well, Techno did say ‘best shot’. Regretfully, he has no intention of stirring up trouble by answering that one, and thus his promise that he made _literally_ five seconds ago about _'getting it all out in the open'_ has to be instantly broken. Techno frowns and shakes his head. “It doesn’t matter now.”

“Was it— was it someone from Hypixel? Do you still know them? Do _I_ know them?”

“Tommy, it really doesn’t matter who it was. I had my love amputated. It’s _gone._ It’s been gone for a long time.”

“But… why did you do it?”

“Because I was going to die if I didn’t.”

“No _shit._ But the— the very nature of—“ Tommy flaps his hands around in a big gesture. “The whole deal is that you only get the disease if it’s a pretty difficult choice for ya. You’re _supposed_ to _love—“_

Techno waits for Tommy to continue.

He doesn’t.

“… I wanted to live,” Techno says.

“And I’m _glad_ you’re alive, I really am, but—“ Tommy sputters. “Did you even _try_ to work it out? Sometimes people confess and it works out! And— and not in a— in a guilt-driven way, in a real way. Like hearing it makes them actually realize.”

“That wasn’t an option.”

“Did you—“

“Tommy. Sometimes the person you like just doesn’t like you back. And that… it was killin' me, Toms,” Techno says. He feels his hand twitch, fights the urge to reach up to his throat. Time had made him forget the pain, but he remembers that thorns caught in his throat like barbs, tearing more and more as he struggled to remove them, making him choke on his own blood as well as the plant life that refused to stop growing. Day after day, struggling to breathe easily for even a moment. Knowing that it couldn’t be solved, that he only had two options left. “I tried, if that’s what you want to hear. It still didn’t work out. It was surgery or death. I made a choice.”

Tommy’s head turns away.

Techno’s still not certain why the hate is being concentrated on their father when it was his secret, but he knows Phil doesn’t deserve it. Phil was there every step of recovery, including after he’d physically healed. It was Phil who calmed him down enough to learn how to eat solid food again. It was Phil who helped train him to hold his breath again - a basic survival skill that he’d lost after growing accustomed to struggling for air constantly. It was Phil who spent weeks and months working on Techno’s combat breath control; not because it was something Techno _needed_ to remaster, but because it was something he _wanted._ Every step of the way, Phil did his best to help him experience the life that he sacrificed so much for. And the whole time, he split his time so evenly amongst his children that Tommy never noticed his absence. He'd become a personal physical therapist as a secret double life just because Techno wanted to keep a secret. After all that, Techno can’t even consider the notion that Phil handled the situation poorly in any way.

He’s pretty sure that deep down, Tommy doesn’t think so either.

“Hey. You _know_ that dad didn’t do anything wrong.”

With a sigh, Tommy nods the tiniest bit. “Yeah. _Yeah,_ yeah. I know.”

“Everything’s okay. Let’s get out there and play some games and be a team.”

“You can’t _distract me,”_ Tommy says indignantly.

“Probably not, but we all need to keep our eyes on the prize. I dunno if you forgot, but we’re in the middle of a tournament. You _do_ want to win this thing, right?”

“Right.”

“So put a pin in it and stop giving dad the cold shoulder. It hurts his feelings.”

Tommy snorts. “Fine, fine. If it’ll make you happy.”

Techno hopes that that'll be the end of it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Narrator voice* That was not, in fact, the end of it.


	2. ανταγωνισμός

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And now, please enjoy a full chapter of everyone specifically Not Talking About The Main Plot. I'm sure this is what everyone came here for.

The games keep coming.

TGTTOS is a game mode that Techno excels in, and so it’s no surprise to anyone when he starts speed bridging and dominating the competition. In every round, he snags a place in the top three. By the time they tally up the total points for the entire minigame, Techno’s in first. To his delight and surprise, Wilbur’s in fourth. Actually, the entire team does fairly well, managing to keep ahead of the majority in every round. This is _very_ very good because it rockets them up in the team leaderboards and gets them closer to winning.

Techno does mean to talk to Phil and Tommy between rounds, but in his defense, this break is the Audience Participation one, meaning that the cameras never get shut off and there’s no privacy to be had.

The admins open up the polls for the audience to choose the next game, and Techno and Tommy turn to their audiences and beg for Rocket Spleef, one of the only games they put in the time to practice for. They beg and joke and flash their prettiest smiles and hope that the thousands of people watching their live feeds have some form of superficial parasocial attachment to them.

They sway the vote wildly and add fifty percent to Rocket Spleef. It’s fucking _exciting._

After the Decision Dome announces the new game, they’re taken to the waiting room for the new round.

“Remember Phil’s strat,” Wilbur says quietly. “Don’t say it out loud, but—”

“Alright,” Techno chuckles.

"Yeah, yeah," Wilbur nods.

Phil’s strategy, of course, has to do with the angle that you hold your wings after setting off an explosion beneath you. Everyone knows that Phil has spent a lot of time with extra appendages on his back. Few people understand the dynamics and physics of air currents better than Phil has, and Phil has figured out the specific type of explosion that MCC’s rocket launchers provide. If they can copy his technique, they’ll get so much air that they could get knocked off solid ground a dozen times and simply glide their way back to the top. MCC Rocket Spleef has strict rules about glide-only (except for a one-time-use power-up that lets you flap your wings to your heart’s content for two seconds), but even that sort of limitation can be overcome with the perfect positioning and the right draft beneath your wings.

“Wilbur, could you just start cheating again? Because that would be really cool now that we're on the same team,” Tommy says.

“I didn’t mean to!” Wilbur exclaims. “It was an involuntary reaction!”

“You held onto the cliff with your hands for— what, a minute straight?” Phil questions, raising an eyebrow. “It’s a no-hands game, son.”

“In my defense, that wasn’t against any rules at the time,” Wilbur says quickly.

Techno would pitch in, but at that very moment the admins finally spawn in elytras, gifting everyone temporary wings. Almost instantly, Tommy jumps in surprise, reflexively spreads his wings, and smacks Wilbur directly in the face with a blue-feathered appendage.

Tommy yelps in shock (as if he'd been the one to get hit) and covers his mouth, and then looks at Wilbur with wide eyes and laughs loudly.

Wilbur has an expression of complete shock at first, but it slowly morphs into outrage as his own wings fluff up and his jaw drops. Techno can visibly see his Cain instinct kicking in. The universal big-brother reaction of _'oh this little shit is about to get it'._ “Thomas-fucking-Innit! You are going to—”

“I didn’t mean— I didn’t mean to, I didn’t mean to! Wilbur, Wilbur I'm sorry, leave me alone!” Tommy screeches even as a giant smile spreads across his face. He backs up quickly, ducking behind Phil temporarily before he sees Wilbur march forward. At that point, Tommy just turns and runs, flapping his wings to gain speed and running and laughing and screaming platitudes through laughter as Wilbur laughs right back and gives chase. Wilbur, gangly and unaccustomed to having wings, doesn’t even come close to catching their little brother. Instead, Tommy just bounds off the walls apologizing and trying to contain laughter as Wilbur vows revenge with an equally large grin. The countdown starts and Wilbur threatens to throw if Tommy doesn't let him make it even, so Tommy hesitates but then stops and lets Wilbur whack him with a swipe of his wing. A truce is called mere seconds before the game begins, both of them snickering at the absurdity of it.

The lighthearted interaction turns out to be a precursor for the entire round, thankfully. Wilbur and Tommy chatter constantly throughout their time while Techno tries for elims and place high and Phil effortlessly remains at the top of the map. Meanwhile, Techno’s brothers get on like a house on fire. Wilbur tells Tommy about his childhood crush on Shubble, and then they laugh at Michael successfully cheating in the iconic Wilbur Soot Cling-For-Dear-Life style, and then they sing a terrible improvised parody of YMCA together.

Techno nearly falls right off the map when he hears “just killed a woman, feeling good” be added to The Quote Book in real-time.

In all honesty, they were having such a laid back time that they shouldn’t have performed as well as they did. Luckily, all of them survive long enough in each round to score decently anyhow. So when Phil wins second place overall, their whole team gets nearly three thousand points.

Suddenly, the games are more than halfway over, they’re leading by 1400 points, and they've gotten back on solid ground with teamwork and banter at the same time.

* * *

Once they’re deposited back into the Decision Dome for a real break, Techno recalls that he had intended to speak with his Dad. _Now's as good a time as any,_ he figures. He flips his communicator on mute and motions to the path outside while glancing at Phil, who nods amicably. They don’t even get out of the Dome itself before Phil starts talking.

“I’d like to know how you want to handle this thing with Tommy,” Phil says. “It’s entirely your decision, as far as I’m concerned.”

 _“Entirely?”_ Techno echoes. Phil doesn’t typically deal in absolutes.

“In this case.”

“Good. We’re ignorin’ it for now.”

If someone asked Techno to use a single word to describe his father at this very moment, he’d definitely say ‘disappointed’ is a top contender.

“For now,” he repeats, grumbling the words.

“You think leaving him with his thoughts is a good idea?” Phil asks.

“We’re not leaving him alone. He has other things to focus on,” Techno says, waving his hand at the massive domed roof above them all to indicate MCC. “Have you heard him? He’s having fun, man. And we’re all aware that he’s competitive by nature. So, if we stop bringing it up, he’ll put it on the back burner, we’ll win this competition and deal with everything else later.”

Phil’s lips draw into a line.

“You _know_ I’m right,” Techno says. “Drop the therapist attitude and have some fun.”

“I’m not a child you can distract by simply _mentioning_ competition,” Phil says. “But you have a point, and I already promised I would do as you suggest.”

“Technically, you only _implied_ that you’d do what I say.”

“You’re such a little prick.”

“Wonder where I got it from,” Techno says.

He doesn’t quite expect Phil to reach out and wrap him in a hug, but he pats his father’s back when it happens like a good son ought to. Phil sighs into his hair and smoothes Techno’s cloak with his arm. “I’ve got no clue what’s going through your head, and that’s scaring me a bit.”

Techno slowly removes himself from Phil. “I want to win this thing. Everythin’ else is drama.”

“Drama that I’d bet you’ve got an opinion on.”

He rolls his eyes. “Win first. Drama later.”

“Drama later, you say? Well then, you’ll have no problem agreeing to come home after the tourney,” Phil says.

Techno scrunches his brows. “Home? What, the Empire? SMPEarth?”

“No. _Home,”_ Phil says firmly.

 _Oh,_ Techno thinks. **_Actual_ ** _home._ Home, as in not a guild server, not a whitelist server, not even a friend server, but one of Phil’s private worlds that he opens to LAN for the three of them (and occasionally Pete). It’s where they grew up, in an Easy Mode world where Phil had a beautiful house on a lake in the woods, where he built farmland over the lake so the soil would never go dry. It’s home, that farm in the forest, nestled amongst mountains.

Techno hasn’t been there in a few years. The notion of visiting wins him over instantly. Suddenly his heart aches and he wants nothing more than to slink down that familiar hall and collapse into his childhood bed. But he has things he’s obligated to do, things he _wants_ to do.

“Can we win first?”

Phil sizes him up, and then closes his eyes with a small smile. “I don’t know. _Can_ we?”

“Oh you know I’ll go full tryhard just to shut you up.”

* * *

Round after round, they play and have fun and win enough that their previous frustration bleeds into competitive focus. Techno slips into the flow of it and starts blocking out the previous tension to concentrate on his performance, and the points he gets in return are more than worth it.

7/9 wins in Battle Box. First place in 2/3 rounds of Hole In The Wall. Fourth place in Parkour Warrior.

And bam, just like that, they're in second place and the eight teams below them are down for the count, and it’s just them against the team in first place preparing for the last game.

“Remember how I said I never make it to the finals because I get put on weaker teams? Well, _look what happens,_ ” Techno exclaims, hurrying to the Hall of Fame.

The break time is as short as ever, and Techno is well aware that the next round is the last one, so he dashes over to the building where the individual leaderboards and stats are displayed. He’s number one in eliminations and points by a wide margin. The pedestal with his hologram rises well above the line of descending pedestals beside it, and it brings a smirk to his face when he sees that Pete is second, but it’s not a close race at all.

“What’s that I see?” Techno grins. “Individual first place? By _one thousand points?!”_

_Well, almost a thousand. Close enough._

“Nice,” Phil says, trailing behind.

Techno laughs a little maniacally and uses a menu to summon a hologram camera to photograph the achievement. “Look what happens! We win these!”

“Phil, you’re in third, dude,” Wilbur points out.

“I am?” Phil asks.

“He is?” Techno asks.

“Yeah,” Wilbur says, pointing. Sure enough, two pedestals down from the Techno hologram is a similar hologram of their dad.

Satisfied, Techno turns to quickly check the rankings for niche stats. He’s won seven out of the fifteen categories displayed on his current floor. He checks all of them just to visually see that ‘Technoblade’ is at the top of the list. He’s got Most Total Eliminations, Most Eliminations in One Event, Battle Box: Most Eliminations, Battle Box: Damage Dealt, Lockout Bingo: Most Completions, Skyblockle: Most Eliminations, and Skyblockle: Most Damage Dealt. They are, without a doubt, the highest individual rankings he’s gotten since Minecraft Monday fell apart. Techno grins at the pure statistics of his achievements, and then wider when he notices that he’s not the only one doing well. “Tommy, you’ve got third place on total elims!”

There’s no response.

“Tommy?” he calls, looking around.

Tommy, who was staring at the pedestals, does a double-take and then smiles at Techno with the fakest smile he’s ever seen. “Yeah, we fuckin’ got ‘em!”

Techno furrows his brows, grateful to his mask for obscuring his confusion. “You hyped up for the last round?”

“Oh, _yeah._ Yeahyeahyeah it’ll be poggers,” Tommy nods quickly.

He can’t believe his brother’s suddenly become a terrible liar. The kid’s hands are literally shaking as he gestures with them. Techno digs back in his memory, trying to recall when his little brother had time to get this freaked out. They’d been having way too much fun in the games. Like, fuck, he’s been laughing along with them the entire time, rolling with the punches, having a blast. Or-- well, in the last round, Wilbur did get mad and mute Tommy from the entire channel and then block him for being annoying, but that’s happened before, and Wilbur unmuted him right after the game finished. Tommy’s got thick enough skin to get over that. A few minutes have passed, which is more than enough time to take a breath and calm down. He can’t be upset over that. It’s impossible. So what the fuck has Tommy _shaking in his boots?_

“Are _you_ okay?” Tommy asks, like if he asks the question first, nobody can ask him. It’s a shoddy attempt at best — the most blatantly overt dodge in the history of deflection.

But time’s running out and damn if Techno doesn’t have to take the bait anyway. He lets a grin creep up on his face and he straightens his posture and tilts his head up to stare at Pete’s pedestal. “We’re going to _eviscerate_ the green team.”

When he looks back down, Tommy looks stiff and tense and not excited at all.

Phil drags them away before Techno can figure out why.

* * *

The finale has a surprise that nobody knew about beforehand. Dodgebolt has become Eggbolt in honor of Easter, so when they’re sent to the arena, they’re equipped with slingshots instead of bows.

It’ll be fine. It’s just a best-of-three match.

The gameplay is unexpectedly different from practice rounds because the projectiles are now fragile, but Techno’s a badass so he adjusts in seconds. He just has to catch the eggs when the hopper tosses them up, and get used to the more distinctly parabolic curve when he takes aim. Easy math, easy adjustments.

Round one starts off strong when Tommy gets Pete out with his first egg. Unfortunately, Vikk and Michael fire simultaneously and wipe out Tommy and Wilbur in the blink of an eye. It’s fine, though, because Phil and Techno take their time and dodge like professionals and 2v3 the green team. One win means that the next one will either win them the entire championship or lead them to a tie.

Round two, he gets hard targeted and only gets one elimination before an egg shatters against his shoulder and he’s teleported to the audience.

“No!” Tommy yells.

“It’s up to you guys,” Techno says solemnly.

Again, Pete got out at the start of the round, so it’s a 3v2 in their favor. A 3v2 which becomes a 3v1 when Tommy nails Michael.

“It’s just Vikk,” Techno says.

Tommy lobs an egg that splatters against the arena wall. In the quietest voice, he mutters, “ahh, ‘m sorry.”

“Vikk, please don’t choose this moment to clutch,” Techno pleads.

“Split up!” Phil calls, sliding to the left field.

Vikk, the graceful bastard, snatches two eggs out of the spawner and quickly fires both consecutively at Tommy. Tommy jukes them with the sort of erratic movement that only energetic kids can pull off.

The eggs pop up on the purple side, and Wilbur and Phil lurch forward to claim them. They both miss, the family scrambles to dodge the eggs that will surely be incoming. Wilbur retreats and attempts to hide behind Tommy, but he gets nailed in the leg with a lucky shot.

“Oh no!” Tommy exclaims, doing a quick 360 when he hears the egg cracking and sees that Wilbur has disappeared.

“I’m out,” Wilbur confirms from the audience. He wipes at the egg yolk that stains his thigh. Techno pats his shoulder consolingly. Neither of them take their eyes off the Eggbolt court for a single second.

“We’ve got them both,” Phil says, loading his slingshot and drawing it back. Tommy does the same with his own egg.

“Take your time,” Techno warns.

The family resemblance shines for a split second. Their posture, their intent focus, their aim trained upon the moving target that is Vikk. Tommy and Phil stand there, weapons loaded, waiting for the time to strike. This is exactly how Phil taught the three of them to hunt game in the woods when they were growing up. Techno hears it - the little inhale from Phil that indicates he’s about to shoot - and he knows that to their family, it’s just as much of a signal as someone screaming _‘fire!’_ Tommy and Phil let their slingshots go at the same time.

Phil’s egg cracks against a wall, but—

Tommy’s hits Vikk in the face.

They fucking _win._

* * *

Nobody announced the leave-Tommy-alone-until-we-get-home memo, and in their post-win celebration, it’s completely forgotten. It’s a mistake that none of them catch in time.

The first red flag appears at the winner’s platform, where they’re all given crowns and teleported to a stage elevated above the rest of the contestants. Fireworks explode and people clap and Techno laughs uncontrollably because his crown got sized wrong and keeps slipping over his eyes.

“I must look so dumb,” Techno chuckles. “I can’t see anything!”

Phil laughs and takes him by the elbow to lead him to the edge. Techno follows blindly, laughing the entire way. The applause and cheering and friendly jeers surround him, and as they slow to a stop, Techno reaches up to lift the crown.

Tommy’s standing a half-foot ahead, looking down over the edge of the stage with absolute wonder in his eyes, like he can’t believe he’s up here and the others are down there.

“Tommy,” Wilbur huffs. “Line up.”

Tommy’s awestruck expression vanishes and he takes a few quick steps to fall in with the rest of them.

(Strike one.)

They take their time afterward, wandering the MCC grounds, chatting with each other and with people that they run into.

Wilbur opens his chatbox and sends a public message to James Charles. “I need to see if he’ll reteam with me,” Wilbur explains when Phil gives him a side eye. “I never got to finish my Minecraft Monday round. I mean— c’mon! That’d be great. Imagine me, Techno, and James Charles all on a team.”

“We’ll form the dream team: me, Wilbur, James Charles, and Philza,” Techno chuckles.

 _“Waitwait,_ wait wait wait,” Tommy interrupts. “I feel like I’ve been cut out of this!”

Shit. Techno internally winces and forces a smile as he ruffles Tommy’s hair. He quickly invents a way to backpedal and says; “We had to remove you to balance it out. Yeah, because you’re too good at the game, Tommy. It’s only fair.”

Tommy pulls an unhappy face. “It does _sound_ like it should be good for me, but it doesn’t feel—”

Wilbur cackles a mean-sounding laugh, and Tommy’s face falls even further.

“I mean, I came, what, 17th? That’d be pretty balanced, actually. Two handicaps,” Wilbur says.

“This team would be _so broken_ if you were in the top ten,” Techno says, trying to move on and subtly point out how well Tommy did.

“You guys are leaving me?” Tommy asks quietly.

The amusement completely drops from Wilbur’s face, and he sends their little brother a flat look. “Tommy, please.”

Instantly, Tommy shuts up.

(Strike two.)

At some point, Noxite finds them to shake their hands.

“Congrats, guys,” Noxite says. “That was a fantastic tournament.”

“I live to entertain,” Techno smiles.

“And by god, you do! Have you looked at your personal score?” Noxite asks, laughing in amusement.

“I have. Nearly a thousand ahead of the pack.”

 _“Over_ a thousand,” Noxite corrects, and with a few waves of his hand, he creates a menu visible to all of them, showing the Top Individual 10. Techno is first at 4347, and Pete is second at 3313.

“Fucking hell,” Phil mutters.

“You’re an absolute beast,” Noxite nods along.

“Damn right he is,” Wilbur says. “I mean— Techno do the face.”

Deciding to play along, Techno closes his eyes, squares his shoulders, and shoots a piercing glare at Noxite.

The goggle-wearing admin blinks in surprise and then smiles. “That is _terrifying!”_

“I strike fear into the hearts of all,” Techno says in the deepest voice he can muster.

“Right?” Wilbur snickers. “I mean, hell, he’s like our guard dog. We could sic 'im on anyone and he’d go for it! Watch, I can just—”

A few things happen in quick succession:

Wil grabs Techno’s shoulders and pulls him to face down Tommy.

Techno, playing along, turns his glare to Tommy as directed.

Tommy meets his eye.

Tommy flinches back. _Violently._

(Strike three.)

Techno drops the expression and backs up immediately, bumping into Wilbur. He holds his breath watching Tommy. His younger brother stares at him, petrified, breathing in shallow, near-silent puffs. Scared.

Scared of _Techno._

“Okay,” Phil says. He steps between Techno and Tommy and puts his arm around Tommy’s shoulder. “Thanks for the games, Stefan. We had a blast today. I think we’re gonna head home.”

“Yeah,” Noxite says, looking rather pale. “Good game, safe travels.”

Phil leads Tommy away.

Wilbur and Techno stare after them.

Phil turns around with a firm face. It’s been years since Techno shrunk away from his father - that sort of thing happens when you grow taller, when you become physically stronger, when you consider yourself an equal - but at this moment, the stare Phil sends makes Techno feel like he’s ten years old, about to be grounded. Phil opens his mouth and says, “boys,” in a tone that drips authority and demands obedience.

When you hear that, there’s nothing to do but follow in a hurry.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hoo boy. Please don't kill me, I promise they're gonna talk things out soon!!!!


	3. φινάλε

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok, deep breath everyone, let's see if I can fix this in a satisfactory way.

Despite the looming confrontation, nothing can stop the nostalgia that hits Techno the moment he emerges from the forest and sees the wide farm of his childhood home.

He remembers games of hide-and-seek where he would dive under the lake, holding his breath and coming up for air in the oddest of places. He remembers his first summer farming the land with Phil, heading out at the first crack of dawn with nothing more than a bag of seeds and a hoe and feeling indescribably proud when he walked back into the house sweat-soaked and dirt-caked and exhausted. He remembers parties held here, where the other kids felt just as unapproachable as the adults, but Wilbur would still drag him away from his books to force him to socialize and run around and play. He remembers watching Tommy learn to fly for the first time, listening to the faint sound of Phil giving out instructions and pointers on the roof, laughing when Tommy jumped and fell and crashed harmlessly through the thin garden soil and into the waters underneath. He remembers his first time returning from his own unique world and the way he was greeted at the door by his whole family, excited to hear about where he’d gone and what he’d seen, as if he’d been gone for years instead of days and as if he was a hero returning from an adventure instead of a barely-independent kid.

Techno glances at the same people who walk beside him now. They don’t look the same. Tommy is pensively silent, Wilbur is hiding his eyes with his hair, and Phil’s so visibly stressed that you’d never guess he won today’s competition.

Phil opens the front door and Tommy enters first. Wilbur immediately makes for the dining room table and sits down with a sigh. Techno pauses at the doorstep.

“In,” Phil says coldly. “And take that god damn mask off. We’re having a proper conversation.”

Techno hurries inside, slipping the pig mask off his face and setting it on a nearby table.

Behind him, Phil shuts the door.

When Techno looks up, Tommy is crossing his arms and watching everyone carefully, trying to read the room. “So is there a reason we’re acting like such downers when we did actually fucking _win_ today? I mean, c’mon! First place!”

“Tommy,” Phil says, his voice stern and low.

Tommy shrinks at it.

“You need to talk to us,” Phil says.

“About what?” Tommy says evasively. “What’s the problem?”

“Why don’t you tell us?” Phil asks.

The teenager scoffs and shakes his head.

“We are sorting this shit out right now, _so help me god,”_ Phil declares. He cuts a glare across the room, surprisingly directing it at Tommy as well. “Toms. This is your chance to start the conversation however you’d like to. Don’t waste that.”

“I’m not wasting anything,” Tommy says defiantly. “Because there’s literally nothing to talk about!”

“Tommy,” Techno sighs.

And instantly, Tommy goes stiff as a board.

Techno’s eyes widen, and he steps forward, pointing an accusing finger in Tommy’s direction. **_“That!_ ** That is the problem! Why are you actin’ like this?”

“I’m— acting like what?” Tommy questions in the worst bluff he’s ever attempted in his young life.

“First you wouldn’t fuckin’ leave my side, and you were pissed at everyone else, and now you’re fine with them and petrified of **me.** I get the first part— I _really_ do. It must suck to feel like we didn’t bother to let you in on basic family history. But we talked about it, and you’re a smart kid, and I thought you finally understood that we excluded you only by mistake. So why are you lookin’ at me like I’m gonna skin you alive? What’s _wrong?!”_

“Nothing’s wrong!”

“That’s clearly not the case!” Techno shouts.

Tommy shakes his head.

 _Jesus,_ he just wants to grab Tommy and shake him until he gives a straight fucking answer. “What happened?!”

“Tech!” Wilbur shouts, standing up to grab Techno’s arm and pull him back. Techno whips his head to his other brother and heaves out a heavy breath, only just realizing how worked-up he’s become. Wilbur leans into his space, forcing Techno to focus on him instead. Somehow, Wilbur looks actually relieved at that, and he lowers his voice and soothes; “Easy, easy, alright?”

“Tommy, we can’t fix it if we don’t know what’s wrong,” Phil says, stepping forward, his voice strained as he tries to rein in his own frustration while remaining supportive. “Whatever it may be - and I promise it doesn’t matter how insignificant you think it is - we’ll talk it out and try and find a solution.”

Tommy’s eyes flicker between Phil and Techno.

 _Fear._ **_Why?_ **

Wilbur’s palm presses against Techno’s chest. “Deep breath,” Wilbur murmurs, barely audible.

Surprised, Techno realizes that he’s still not breathing properly. He breathes in and out heavily, averting his gaze to try and calm down. His heart’s beating so hard that Wilbur must be able to feel it. He’s not sure when his concern morphed into panic and then became masked by anger, because it felt like it happened in the blink of an eye — uncontrollable and explosive. He just wants to figure out what the fuck about him is scaring his little brother so he can stop it. It’s _him,_ that much is undeniable, but he’d thought that since Tommy has watched him singlehandedly fell armies - even ones Tommy was in - that nothing he could do would ever shake his little brother. Something, evidently, has. And fuck, he’s probably just worsening it by reacting so aggressively. Even if it might work, he doesn’t _want_ to intimidate Tommy into giving answers. He just has to remember that. With a deep sigh, he shifts his feet and leans a little closer to Wilbur, grateful that someone has a level head and is willing to keep him in check.

“Good,” Wilbur praises.

“…mise it’s not,” Phil says in response to something Tommy’s said, and it captures Techno’s attention once more. “Tommy, whatever it is.”

“It’s not something that can be fixed, I just— I’m thinking too much,” Tommy says.

“If it can’t be fixed, then we can at least talk about it,” Phil assures. He turns to look over his shoulder with a slightly-scathing stare. “Isn’t that right?”

“Of course we can,” Wilbur says, nodding quickly.

Techno nods too.

“So let’s talk, Tommy,” Phil says.

Tommy presses his lips together. His face scrunches up like even thinking about opening up is distasteful. “When…”

Everyone waits.

For a moment, Tommy glances up at Techno before he averts his eyes again. “What do you feel?”

Wilbur quickly removes his hand from Techno’s chest, as if a lack of obstruction will make it easier for Techno to talk about it. As if he knows what Techno needs to say, and is making physical room for the discussion.

Techno, though, is pretty lost. “Uhh. Right now? Pretty confused?”

“No, I meant about—” and Tommy raises a hand up to his throat and makes a choking motion.

“Like— regarding being a Hanahaki survivor?”

The blonde hair of Tommy’s bangs bounces when he nods.

“Uhh… I feel…” Techno frowns, trying to put it into words. “I don’t know, like me? I know logically that what I lost was valuable, but I can’t remember why it was so compelling to me at the time. Like when you wake up from a dream that made you happy, but you can’t remember it. It made me happy for a time and now it’s gone and I don’t mind. I just don’t remember what it’s like to feel any other way than I do ordinarily. I guess it sucks that I’m losing out but honestly, I don’t really care.”

Somehow, Tommy looks even worse now. “Okay. That makes sense.”

Techno inhales sharply, feeling anger return with surprising intensity. **“What?”**

“Nothing,” Tommy says. “Nothing, man. It’s just like you said. The situation just sucks.”

“The situation is _over,”_ Techno grits out. “It’s been over for years. Yesterday, you didn’t even know that there was a situation at all! So what’s your problem, man?”

“I don’t _have_ a problem,” Tommy exclaims. “I’m just sorting things out in my head!”

“What is there for you to wonder about? This has _nothing_ to do with you!”

“It sort of does!” Tommy yells. “You’re my brother, you’re supposed to—!”

Tommy trips over his words and makes a frustrated sound before shaking his head and turning away. He seems completely unaware of the three men in the room that he’s stunned into silence.

“Tommy?” Wilbur calls, sounding shaky. “Tommy, what do you mean?

“It’s… aah, I know, I _know,_ it’s not his fault. He literally can’t help it, he had it bloody amputated, I _know,”_ Tommy rambles in the most nonsensical explanation that Techno’s ever heard.

Somehow, Phil seems to glean some meaning from it. He leans back and blinks quickly, his face crumpling in shock. Then, he opens his mouth, and says, “Tommy. Are you under the impression that Techno can’t feel love at all?”

Tommy turns back around, scrubbing under his eyes. “Is that not the— the surgery’s ultimatum? You cut all the love out of your life forever, and in return you get to keep living.”

“Romantic love,” Phil whispers. _“Romantic love,_ Tommy.”

Like a true eureka moment, everything comes together in Techno’s mind. He sees the entire day from Tommy’s perspective. The outrage at not being told important information. The anger at those who kept the secret, the reluctance to be angry at the actual victim. The calming rage, the growing confusion over the meaning of the aftermath. The worry that without love, there would be no humanity left in Techno at all. The fear that the persona of a battle-hungry maniac is less of a persona and more of a true self, and the terror when that would have meant that every other moment is a facade meant to put everyone at ease. The struggle not to judge what cannot be helped, and the desperate focus on playing better and being recognized so that even if he cannot be _loved,_ maybe he can at least be _respected._ The flicker of hope when he secures the win for them. The crushing defeat when he is brushed off as nothing more than an annoyance, even after winning an entire tournament. He believed there was nothing to keep Techno from turning on him the second he wasn’t a tactical advantage. How could a kid _not_ be terrified of that? It’s no wonder he was so insistent that there wasn’t a problem. He didn’t want to waste their time with something that would be seen as overly emotional and childish and futile, something that Techno might consider a waste of time, something that would make Techno resent him even more.

What a fucking idiot Techno is.

He doesn’t process that he’s moving until he’s already made his way forward and pulled Tommy into his arms. Techno closes his eyes and runs his hands up and down Tommy’s back and presses his nose into blonde hair. “Tommy, I’ve never been happier to tell you that you’re wrong.”

Tommy makes an unintelligible sound that’s muffled by Techno’s cloak anyway, so Techno just talks over it.

“You mean so much to me. You’re family, and this family means more to me than anythin’ else in my life possibly could. The whole Blood God thing— that’s just a joke, man. Sarcasm and dry wit and dark humor. I still _feel things._ I’m capable of sentiment and emotional attachment and love. The fact that I can’t _fall_ in love doesn’t mean that I don’t love you.”

Instead of a verbal response, Techno just feels Tommy’s hands reach around him and hold on tight to the back of his shirt.

It’s around this point that he regrets his lack of experience with heart-to-hearts. He’s sure that Phil would know how to give the perfect physical comfort and back rubs, and that Wilbur would find the perfect words to say. But Tommy doesn’t need either of them. He needs _Techno_ this time. So Techno does what he does best and holds Tommy close and tight and with enough pressure that it must feel slightly-crushing, and hopes that Tommy understands that it’s a protective display.

Under his breath, spoken into Techno’s neck, Tommy whispers, “I love you too.”

* * *

Together they have a family dinner where Wilbur cooks and everyone makes fun of him despite not being able to do better. Tommy rambles about his best friend for about half an hour, and Phil explains a new build he’s making in the NetherVoid. Techno tentatively talked about his ongoing potato-farming competition with Squid, explaining the technical exploits of Hypixel Skyblock. He explained his efficiency improvements and the absurd margin by which he was winning a competition that very few people actually cared about.

Everyone notices his avoidance of violent talk. Nobody prods.

Eventually, Wilbur declares he wants to look around his old room. Tommy claims he buried some treasure nearby in the forest. Phil wants to check up on Carson, so he stays inside to ping some messages back and forth.

Techno heads out to the porch and sits on the railing. Nighttime is exactly as he remembers from childhood. Like everyone is nearby, like if he just raised his voice calling Wilbur’s name he could summon his brother. He could, Techno realizes. His family is literally right here.

They won’t be for very long. None of them had planned on having a family dinner. They all had worlds or servers to get back to after the championship was over. For now, they’re delaying the inevitable departure simply because things got too real and the idea of leaving on a bad note is enough to be worth sticking around a bit longer than initially planned. They all miss their dad, who often retreats to his hardcore worlds for long stretches of time, and Wilbur and Tommy are about to return to a very active SMP where they’ll be extremely busy causing chaos and making friends. Techno expects that he won’t get the chance to speak to any of them for a few months at least.

Techno supposes he’ll have to decide where he wants to go, too.

He snaps back to awareness when footsteps approach. It’s Tommy, treading the path up to the house and holding a book.

“Did you find your time capsule?” Techno asks.

“Yeah,” Tommy says, raising the book slightly.

“Gonna let me read your diary?”

“In your wildest dreams, mate. I’d never let you get your grubby little fingers on my private property,” Tommy scoffs.

Techno smirks and watches Tommy step up the staircase. His little brother doesn’t enter the house, though. He leans against a post that supports the awning and glances out at the horizon.

“So that was a pretty massive day.”

“Yeah. None of those other teams had a chance,” Techno smiles.

“Not really what I meant.”

With a long sigh, Techno just nods and glances over the tree line. “Yeah.”

“I’ve been thinking. Even if you literally weren’t capable of loving me, I think I’d be okay with that,” Tommy says.

Instantly, Techno turns to scan his little brother for distress. The boy, though, has a solid poker face on, so Techno nervously intervenes. “Tommy. I do.”

“I— yeah, I know,” Tommy says. “But _if.”_

After a long moment, Techno drops his chin and lowers his gaze to his chest, where the top of the scar just barely peeks out from the dip of his shirt. He’s thought about that scar more in the last six hours than he has in the last year combined.

“I think that even if you couldn’t, you would’ve found a way to be a badass about it anyway. Like, sign a contract with yourself, or write letters to your future self. Somehow, you would’ve made yourself look out for us,” Tommy says with complete confidence. “You would’ve been like, this stoic, badass powerhouse. Practically a personal bodyguard, ‘cause of course you would still be sick at PvP. It would have worked out okay.”

Techno chuckles a little.

“What? You don’t think you would?” Tommy asks. He’s probably trying to sound indignant, but he misses the target and hits insecure instead.

“I don’t like thinking about that,” Techno says.

“Why not?”

“Because I had a hard time making up my mind when it was only romance on the line. If I had to give up family, I don’t think I would have made the call at all.”

Tommy goes silent.

A long few minutes pass. “Sorry. That got kinda heavy.”

“‘S okay,” Tommy says. He shifts around and clears his throat. “Where are you going after this?"

Techno sighs. “Dunno. Hypixel.”

“You really wanna be alone after all that?” Tommy asks.

“I have work to do,” Techno says.

“What? Bullying that kid on Skyblock even when you won first place months ago?”

“Can’t let ‘im catch up.”

“That’s _really_ what you want? To go back to a place where the only people you talk to are ones you hire to work for you? To wake up every day and repeat the same tasks over and over just to defend a title that you only _sort of_ care about?”

“Tommy, I can’t follow you to the Dream SMP.”

The way Tommy bristles tells Techno that he struck a nerve. So much so, in fact, that Tommy doesn’t even pretend that he wasn’t trying to steer the conversation in that direction “Well, why not? And— and don’t say the whitelist, because I got Wilbur on. We could make a home there.”

Ah, Wilbur. Wilbur, who’s upstairs, who very well may be listening to them at this moment through an open window. Wilbur, who’s been there to bridge the gap between Tommy and the older friends that he’s been making. Wilbur, who’s recently been doing a better job at being present and supportive than Phil and Techno combined. The idea of stepping in the middle of that - of letting Tommy set expectations that Techno probably can’t meet - gives him a spike of anxiety that he hides by looking away. “The way I heard it, other people got Wilbur on _for_ you.”

“Same difference.”

“Wilbur and I don't spend time the same way. He’d do well on a server like that, but it’s not really my speed.”

“A server like that?” Tommy muses. “You mean one that’s not a competition?”

Perhaps the worst part of this is that Tommy’s right. Techno lives for competition, for rivalry, for the satisfaction of improving and winning and chasing ambition and overcoming impossible odds. He’d much rather become the best at every game in Hypixel than move to a new server and build a house in the wilderness. Tommy says that places like Hypixel leave him alone, but places like that are how Techno connects to people outside his family. It’s the only way he knows how, actually. By crossing paths with a thousand strangers who know his name, who validate the time he spends training by paying him respect. He’s just not sure how to explain that to Tommy without sounding like an emotionless monster. In the end, he can’t find a way to articulate it, and he gives up with a shake of his head, and offers something else in its place. “I don’t need another home. I’ve got this place, and I can send a message to you nerds any time I want.”

He knows, even before he’s finished saying it, that it isn’t what Tommy needs to hear.

“You’ll have Wilbur with you the entire time. He’ll keep you safe. And I’ll always be one message away if you two ever get in over your head,” he says.

And then, he shuffles closer and puts an arm over Tommy’s shoulder, dragging him close. Even so, Tommy stares out at the farm instead of at him.

Hesitantly, he says, “I love you, kid?”

Like a switch has been flipped, Tommy turns and presses his cheek into Techno’s shoulder, leaning into his older brother.

“I’ll be alright. You will too,” Techno mutters.

“Wilbur probably wants to leave soon,” Tommy says.

“Go get him, then. Dad and I will see you off.”

* * *

After Tommy skitters upstairs to find Wilbur, Techno meets Phil in the kitchen. Phil is drying the washed dishes and putting them away one by one, so Techno steps up and begins putting away the dried plates to split the workload.

“Everything go well?” Phil asks.

“Yeah,” Techno says.

Phil knows him better than to ask where he’s going. His father has always understood, somehow, the way Techno feels the constant need to succeed in unexpected and unlikely situations. Maybe because he’s the same, because he, too, takes on massive tasks all on his own and revels in the satisfaction when it’s done.

“Thanks, by the way, for not yellin’ at me. I probably deserved it for losin’ my cool with Tommy,” Techno says.

With a sigh, Phil’s shoulders slump. “That was just a gamble that paid off. I hope that you understand that it could have gone very fucking pear-shaped if Tommy had actually been _scared_ instead of insecure.”

As he puts forks back in the drawer, he pauses, swallows, and continues.

“That would have been _very_ bad,” Phil repeats.

“I know.”

“Do you?”

“Yes,” Techno says immediately. “I was scared—”

He takes a deep breath.

“I was scared he thought—” Techno cuts himself off again. And then, suddenly, he realizes that he probably doesn’t even have to finish. Anything he could say, he’s so fucking sure that Phil already knows. His dad must know how terrified he was that Tommy would never look at him the same way again, that Tommy would never trust him the same way, that this family would fracture and never be the same again.

“Me too,” Phil admits quietly. “I just— I need you to know that we're lucky we guessed right.”

He knows that. But there’s not much to be done now, so he nervously glances at his father and tries, “All’s well that ends well?”

“Did you talk to him?” Phil asks.

“I tried,” Techno says.

“If I give you a piece of advice, will you take it?” Phil asks. After a long few moments of silence, he just continues. “You and I both know that actions mean more than words. It’s lovely that you’ve told Tommy that you care, but it’d be better to show it. The next time he asks you a favor, I suggest you take that into consideration. Understand?”

“Yeah, Dad.”

Phil sighs and then says, gentler than before, “I don’t mean do whatever Tommy asks, either. I just mean—”

“Dad, I know,” Techno interrupts quietly.

They both look up, and meet each other’s eyes. Techno twitches his lips into a smile, and Phil extends an arm out to squeeze his shoulder. “I’m so fuckin’ proud of you.”

The rest of the plates are put back in the cupboards with only the clinking of the ceramic to fill the quiet. Techno thinks about how someday, they’ll be back here, taking out four sets of dinnerware and eating around the table again. Someday, he'll make the joke that their victory today was attributed to their superior bloodline, and he'll disregard it when someone inevitably points out that they aren't related by blood. They'll be able to laugh and joke around and it won't matter what they were worried about today, because they'll all think back and know with complete certainty that there was nothing to be afraid of. They've all signed up for this family and all the ups and downs that come with it, all with the understanding that familial love is meant to be unconditional and permanent. Maybe it'll take some time, but someday, Tommy will fully believe that he had nothing to fear from his brother.

There will come a time when their family will remember this day fondly.

Some day.

* * *

Wilbur slings an arm over Techno's shoulder as they walk back to the portal. They'd dreaded arriving home, and now they dread leaving it.

"You're staying with him, right?" Techno asks.

"It was a mistake to leave him alone for so long," Wilbur responds. "Won't happen again."

Techno understands that. It's hard to manage this family. Everyone enjoys having space, being independent, making a name for themself - so much so that they forget that Tommy's still a child, that despite his claims, he needs supervision. And sure, even babysitting Tommy won't stop him from getting in trouble, but at least he wouldn't be alone.

"How long do you need?" Wilbur asks.

"I don't know," Techno sighs. "I'll come if people invite me to stuff. I just…"

"Won't stick around."

"Exactly."

Wilbur nods, lips drawn tight. They've never seen eye to eye on that; they've actually had the same argument a hundred times with only slight variations, but the good thing about the repetition is that they both know why the other disagrees and they both know it won't change. (Techno thinks it's hypocritical. Why should Wilbur get to block Tommy and ignore him in favor of solo projects and then turn around and blame Techno for virtually the same thing? Wilbur thinks it's narcissistic, claiming that Techno ought to have the maturity to set aside his obsessions for the sake of the family. That Techno's not around long enough for it to count, that he's cutting family out of his life by choice.) At this moment, though Wilbur meets his eye and conveys acceptance.

"If he starts doubting what I said tonight, just set him straight," Techno says, trusting that Wilbur will understand.

He's assured by how quickly Wilbur nods and agrees.

"The same goes for you," he continues anyhow.

Wilbur's hand reaches up and pats Techno's head (which is actually kind of mindful when the alternative would have been ruffling his hair and ruining his braid). It still knocks against his crown and dislodges his mask slightly.

Techno chuffs. "I was trying to be sentimental and emotional, and this is the thanks I get?"

"You're the worst," Wilbur says softly.

* * *

_This wasn't good enough,_ he thinks anxiously as he sees the glowing portal shine through the trees. The walk was too short, and the conversations too serious, and it just feels wrong, even to him, who usually can't pick up on emotional tones to save his life. He doesn't want to leave like this, with crying and tearful affirmations and the doubt that his amends were taken as platitudes. He just wants to leave on a good note.

_(He should leave first. His brothers deserve a chance to talk with their father. He owes them that much.)_

When they step up to the portal, Techno makes his move.

"Well, this has been surprisingly fun," he says. "Dad, thanks for having us. Wil, thanks for feeding us. Tommy. Anyhow—"

Tommy snorts.

Techno fights off a smile as he continues, "I'm gonna get going. Y'know, spend some time reveling in victory and plotting how I can play psychological mind games on Scott to manipulate him into putting me on another winning MCC team. Normal people do that."

"You can try, but mark my words, next week they are going to nerf you so hard," Phil says.

"Bold of you to assume they're capable of determining what would nerf me. It astounds me how they ever thought that this team was fair," Techno retorts.

"I guess we should thank Wilbur for taking one for the team and lowering the group average, eh?" Tommy snickers. It's a relief, honestly, that he's chiming in to make the same joke that he was worried about only hours ago, and that he knows they're not trying to target him, and that it really is fine to insult each other without crossing a line.

"It was a tactical play on my part," Wilbur nods solemnly. "That's why I walked off the map on the first game, didn't you know? It was all part of the plan."

"Wil— Wilbur, we were _already_ on a team," Techno says in faux concern. "You didn't have to do that, man."

"Oh, you haven't heard? It's called _method acting."_

"That's a funny way to pronounce 'throwing'."

That sends Phil and Tommy off, both of them laughing so loudly that the older brothers snicker along too.

_This is the good note._

"So I'll see y'all next MCC, yeah?" Techno asks once his dad and brother finally quiet down.

Phil's eyes shine as he smiles. "Bet your life on it, mate."

"Just wait 'til I have a higher MCC win rate than Technoblade," Tommy says.

"Let him dream," Wilbur cuts in before Techno can retort.

His family's so dumb. He loves them so much.

Techno gives out three sets of hugs, two pats on the back, and one hair-ruffle.

He may not know what romantic love feels like anymore, but he would swear on his life that this must be better.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> :)! Thanks for sticking around guys!!!! If you feel so inclined, I would love to hear what you thought!

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading!!! Please feel free to leave a comment; I live and die for feedback :)


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